


Decked Out

by rosa_himmelblau



Series: Starsky's Clandestine Reports [5]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: So, just what was going on between Starsky & Hutch during Deckwatch?
Series: Starsky's Clandestine Reports [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/599422
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Decked Out

It was one of those dissatisfied, out-of-sorts mornings when communications between H and me had broken down to quick, perfunctory sex, not enough hot water for two showers, soft-boiled eggs that ended up hard-boiled, and his stupid squash not starting, so we ended up in my car with H in a foul mood and me counting to 10 every 15 seconds or so just to keep from flooring it and shoving him out on the freeway.

And the catch of the day turned out to be a db, female, who'd managed to shoot her assailant before he killed her. H's attitude bewildered me -- getting sympathetic toward the guy, but I just went along with him; no sense getting into a beef about some sicko with a knife.

Then Chickie showed up, said he'd seen the guy, wanted a little attention, a little stroking (at least that's the way H explained it to me one time). If things'd been going better that day, he'da gotten it -- that shocked look on his face when H laid into him made me wanna take H aside, tell him to cool it. Anyhow, when Chickie didn't get his attention, he decided he wanted money for the info. Then, just what I needed, Laura Kanen showed up, and H was gone in a flash, over to schmooze with her. I wanted to slug him.

I tried to be gentler with Chickie, without backing down, but the second Laura split, H just erupted.

We were both too rough on him, probably, but by that time I was way past my who-gives-a-shit-level. Then the lovely Laura returned, all in a panic. One minute she's kicking him for being a cop -- a stupid profession, she called it -- and the next she's crying for help. Jesus. I dropped Chickie and headed over to listen in.

I dunno why I back him up even when I don't agree with him -- his plan for going inside was reckless, and I coulda backed Cap'n, but --

No, I couldn't. He ran the whole thing by me before we talked it over with Cap'n, said he had to be the one to go in 'cause he knew the layout of the house, and anyhow, he plays doctor better'n me. Then he flashed me this high-on-adrenaline grin and I knew he wanted to do it because he wanted to be her knight in shining armor. Now our wounded felon had become a dragon, threatening his damsel in distress. Made me wanna puke.

But I went along. There really wasn't anything else to do, except for maybe sitting it out, hoping the guy didn't take anybody else with him before he bled to death.

\---

I dunno why he took me along when he went to see her -- to keep Hannah occupied while they played? I don't even know why I went -- it's no big thrill, watching him flirt with some too-good-for-the-likes-of-you bitch... but no way was I lettin' him go alone.

That thing with the pie keeps comin' back to me.

"I just didn't want to waste the lemon," she said, but I wonder. For a second I thought maybe H had put her up to hitting me with it, but now I don't think so. I think she made the pie just to hit H with, probably. She'd dated him long enough to know that fighting got more than his dander up -- getting hit with a pie could qualify as foreplay... and she'd enjoyed taunting him like that.

Anyway, it was all just foolin' around on his part; I oughta been able to tell that just because he was saying he'd quit the force for her. (I didn't ask; I'm not that dumb -- he volunteered this on the way back to his place.) They're just friends now, or at least he'd like them to be friends; it doesn't feel right, this hostility between them. Really. Friends.

Right.

And  _ that's _ why they're having lunch tomorrow.

Right.

Friends  _ have _ lunch.

He said  _ that _ about four times, wanting me to say something back, so when I stopped the car in front of his place, I said, "I have lunch all the time."

Which he didn't get.

Which was kinda nice. Kinda the point, in fact. He just looked at me like, was that a non sequitur, or did it mean something and he just wasn't getting it?

And if so, what?

And should he ask?

I guess he finally decided he should. "What does that mean?"

I pretended I'd lost the thread of our conversation. "What does what mean?"

"You said you have lunch all the time."

"I do. Once a day, in fact, right around noon."

"So? "

"Exactly."

I was really pissing him off. "Exactly what?"

"What?"

"Starsky." His voice had that icy edge, like he was getting ready to slug me. I love that edge -- always have. It turns me on.

"So if I have lunch every day, why shouldn't you?"

There was a long silence while he looked at me, with an expression on his face that told me he was contemplating using his Magnum on my kneecaps. I didn't grin at him, which I wanted to do, or kiss him, which I really wanted to do.

"Starsky, having lunch isn't the issue."

"I didn't even know there was an issue. Well, okay, if there's an issue, and it isn't having lunch, then what is it?"

"It's me seeing Laura again."

I waited two beats. "What about it?"

Sigh. He'd switched gears: patience incarnate. "I know you don't like her." Also, he's not as dumb as he looks. "And I know -- " He stopped dead.

"What?"

"Well -- "

"You gonna be boffin' her on these lunch dates?" I asked, just to let him off the hook.

"No! "

"So?"

"So what?" He still wasn't getting it.

And I wasn't gonna spoon-feed him. "Exactly."

"Will you please quit saying that?"

Now I sighed, just as patient. "Look, you keep saying you wanna be friends with her. Fine by me. And you keep saying that since you're gonna be friends, you're gonna have lunch together sometimes. Which is also fine by me. And which I've told you. So why do you keep saying it?"

"Because I know you don't like her."

"So? Since when do I have to? I'm not having lunch with her, or being friends with her, why do I have to like her? I got plenty of friends you don't like; what difference could it possibly make?"

"You think I'm still interested in her."

So he was laying his cards on the table. I considered my options. I didn't just think he was still interested in her, I was pretty damn sure, but I wasn't sure I wanted to admit it. On the other hand, romantic subterfuge didn't really suit our friendship -- partnership -- "relationship." But we'd been dancing around for a while now; another whirl across the floor wouldn't hurt any. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to! Jesus, Starsk, you think I don't know you well enough by now to have a pretty good idea what you're thinking? It's written all over you -- has been all along."

I wondered if I could get him to tell himself what I was thinking. "You think I think you're still interested in Laura?"

"Yes!"

"And you think I'm upset about you pursuing a relationship -- however platonic -- with her?"

"Yes -- "

"Then lemme ask you something."

"What?"

"Why're you doing it? I mean, it sounds to me like you're being a shit just for the hell of it. Unless she gives really good lunch."

He got it. And it stopped him short. Me, too. I sounded like a jealous girlfriend and I didn't like it. And I didn't like acting so covert, so I added, "An' yeah, I don't like her, never have, and yeah, I think you're thinking about starting something up again, whether you realize it or not. Because I can read you, too, pal, and in case you missed it, you were drooling all over her. An', yeah, it pissed me off." It woulda had more dignity if I'd just dropped my pants, but in the car that woulda been tricky. Easier just to show him my heart, naked.

"Tell me something." His voice was real soft, real careful.

"Yeah?"

"You don't trust me much, do you?"

I answered him with complete honesty. "A little more than I trust myself."

"What's that mean?"

"I don't know what I'd do if the situation was reversed; we haven't worked out the rules yet, so it's tough to know if we're breakin' 'em. But you were drooling over her."

"Force of habit."

"Mmmmm."

"Nothing else."

"Uh-huh. "

"I swear."

"I know. But it still hurt."

He sighed. "Come upstairs and I'll show you."

I probably should have left it at that, just gone with him, but it had hurt, and I wanted a little more verbal reassurance. "What for?"

"There's lunch -- and there's lunch. I want to show you the difference."

\---

There was a good reason I never liked Laura; she reminded me of Vanessa. Yeah, she was more down to earth, which should've been good, but wasn't real, it was all packaging -- she wasn't as glitzy as Van, but underneath they were still the same. And that air of practicality covered the way she used him better than Van's up-front feline act ever could. Made it seem like she wasn't thinking of herself, that she didn't want him to be a cop for his own good, not 'cause she was dissatisfied.

And, yeah, let's face it, I didn't much like the looks she gave me. Van's had been more obvious, but they both said the same thing, loud and clear: why the hell are you wasting your time with him?

And I never want H to start thinking along those lines, because who knows -- maybe he'll come up with an answer -- and maybe he won't.

Shit, I sound jealous.

No, scared.

If I thought she'd be good for him, make him happy --

Then I'd have a harder time rationalizing making sure he dumps her, but I think I'd still do it.

**Author's Note:**

> One of the famous Clandestine Reports, but apparently I didn't number it.


End file.
